A Shiver of Rain
by Laser Lance 720
Summary: Recently released from Azkaban, cleared of all charges laid against him, Draco has no nearby family. No desire to return home. No idea what to do from here. But at least this rain felt good.


Written using prompts from Gringotts_ Hercules: (word) Hero / Bambi: (weather) rain / Phantom of the Opera (item) ring

-oOo-

He had been in a holding cell for two weeks prior to the hearing. The Ministry had deemed him a flight risk and felt it necessary to trap him in the distressed halls of Azkaban until the time when they could judge him guilty, or innocent. A shiver ran down his spine; a shiver that would stay with him for years to come.

The lift moved ever so slowly. Draco had taken this only once when he'd come to the Ministry with his father. Lucius preferred to use the Floo as opposed to having to venture into Muggle London. The lift continued its slow assent.

Running his wrist along the inside of his palm, Draco felt along the bone where iron cuffs had sat only hours prior. They had drilled him with questions. Questions about the Death Eaters, about Voldemort, about plans and murders and his own part in the horror. He had told the truth to it all. Lying would have done no good.

The door to the lift swung open. Rain was pouring from the sky, Stepping into the streets of London, he closed the phone booth door. He half expected a Ministry wizard to come flying up, dragging him back down on some extra charges. No one followed up. They had gotten all they wanted and they didn't want to deal any further with Draco Malfoy.

Turning from the Ministry entrance, Draco reached out into the rain. It hit his cold hands, and soaked through his clothes. He wore only a thin pair of pants and a plain button down shirt. He had been in those clothes since the Aurors had dragged him off over two weeks ago. They hadn't allowed him to change before stepping in front of the Wizardgom. His clothes were wrinkled and stained, and now they were soaked. His hair had a layer of filth in it. The rain ran over his face, leaving tracks through that dirt. He looked like a vagabond right off the street.

Chuckling, Draco allowed his hand to drop to his side. He looked up into the sky, closing his eyes to the rain. It felt good. It felt so good. He had always loved the rain but he hadn't realized just how much he had loved it until he had been without a window. The cold droplets felt so good against his skin. He felt more alive than he had been in years.

A trickle of cold sat against his chest. Reaching under his shirt, he pulled the simple chain till he could hold the glistening ring in his hands. The family sigil was carved into the inside of the ring. His father had given it to him before they had been taken in by the Aurors. The rain on his cheeks masked the slight tears that began to fall.

Five years Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to. Five years his father would be stuck in that God blessed prison. It was a mercy sentence. Others had received life. But five years would be a long time. The year he had served before had taken a dangerous toll. Draco wasn't sure how well his father would be after five more. His mother only had six months. They had deemed her an accomplice but thankfully nothing more. It was enough to warrant a sentence, but thankfully a lighter one than his father had been given.

Draco had been let off due to his age and a lack of evidence to any wrongdoing. Several of the Aurors had leveled all these accusations against him, painting him with all the sour colors that the Malfoy name could evoke. He was thankful that there had been mercy and he hadn't gone down because of a name he once treasured. After being held two weeks in Azkaban prior to his hearing, Draco was a free man again.

He dropped the ring against his chest, trying not to think of the responsibility attached to it. The rain was falling even heavier now. People were moving through the streets under large umbrellas and raincoats. A few looked at the haunting blond male standing on the street corner, but none stopped to offer him protection from the rain or a word of conversation. Draco was happy with that.

The rain stopped falling on him. He blinked at the change, watching it still pour just inches from his nose. Glancing up, he narrowed his eyes at a frustratingly red umbrella.

"Didn't want you catching your death."

Draco rolled his eyes onto the man holding the umbrella. Those annoying green eyes of the Wizarding World's greatest hero looked at him with a hint of amusement.

"Thanks," Draco responded. He put a bit of force behind it, but the words lacked the bitterness they had both grown accustomed to. A shiver ran through him. Now that the rain wasn't a constant chill, his body was adjusting to the dampness. The warmth coming off of Potter standing so close didn't help.

Draco shifted, digging his hands into his pockets. "And thanks. For what you did in there. I owe you my life. And my parent's lives."

Potter shrugged. "Your mum saved my life. And you did to."

"I didn't do anything."

"What I told the Wizardgom was true. We would have died that day in your house if you hadn't lied. I would have died if your mum hadn't lied to Voldemort. I owe you two. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for your father."

Draco shifted his weight, eyes cast on a group of teenagers running for shelter from the storm. "I wouldn't ask you to do that."

Harry nodded, understanding. He leaned closer to Draco, keeping the umbrella over both of them. "Now that you're a free man, what are you going to do?"

Draco had been asking himself that question for a while now. "I'll have to go back to the Manor at some point, I guess. Check on the place. I'll have to find a place to live for right now."

"You're not staying there?"

"Too much blood on those floors."

Again, Harry understood. "You got friends to stay with?"

"They have enough on their plates right now besides adding my pathetic arse to the mix."

"I know we haven't always been the greatest friends, and we were technically on opposing sides, but I have a house. My godfather left it for me. It's huge and empty and I have more spar rooms than I know what to do with. If you need a place to crash, I can give you the address."

Draco's brow rose until it was hidden behind his uncut bangs. "You asking me to move in, Potter? Bit forward isn't it."

"Shut it, you git." There was a humor in Harry's voice.

"What about Granger and Weasley? You three aren't shacking up together?"

"They've been staying mostly at the Burrow," Harry answered.

"You haven't?" It was strange, having a civilized conversation with the Boy menace. It seemed right though.

"Sometimes. But there's just a lot of noise. A lot of people coming and going. All I wanted as a kid was a family, a place that I could really call home, you know. And the Burrow, the Weasleys they became that. They became my home. But, I don't know, after everything that happened, a little peace and quiet is nice sometimes."

Draco nodded, wanting to deny the fact that he understood where he was coming from. Peace and quiet was the reason he had no plans to make the Manor his home again. It was empty and large and hallow, but the walls still screamed of all the bloodshed. It was too loud in that house.

Harry turned from Draco, staring off into the still plummeting rain. "This is a new start to the world. A chance to get things right. We let things get so out of hands when we were kids. But we're not kids anymore and I think this time around, we could be great friends. It's not a marriage contract, Draco, just a place to stay and a friend if you need one. We all need friends right now."

Draco failed to suppress the grin that overtook his features. "How about a beer first? Most of my money is tangled up in Ministry searches still. I've got," he pulled a few coins from his pocket, "a knut and two sickles on me. I don't know the exchange rate, but I'm pretty sure I can't buy a beer around here with that. Or at least, enough beer."

Harry chuckled, watching Draco drop the coins back into his pocket. "Always making demands, Malfoy. There's a place about two blocks up. It's supposed to be pretty good. George swears by it. I'll buy you a beer."

"Such charity from Saint Potter." Draco couldn't help but to grin as he spoke. He followed after, doing well to keep under the umbrella. His clothes were already starting to dry, but he was still uncomfortably damp.

Harry chuckled, reaching into his pocket to draw something out. He held it in front of Draco, watching the way those grey eyes abruptly widened. "Maybe you can use this to dry yourself off."

Draco took his wand, fingering the familiar wood. The magic coursed through it. "Thanks you."

"It wasn't mine to keep."

The pair kept walking through the streets, huddled under the umbrella to avoid the down pour of rain. It was unreal, two children who had grown to despise one another, now side by side in a world that offered them a better future. A future where they were more than just pawns in someone else's war. Harry glanced at Draco. The blond returned his expression.

A smile crossed both of their lips. Two chuckles – deep, whole, and unfamiliar to the others ears – graced the air.


End file.
